


Afflatus

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Loss, Mild Language, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 14:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: But somehow, after all this time, the reality of it hit him hard.





	Afflatus

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Terminator: Genesis" or the Terminator series. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: I wanted to focus a bit on John's thoughts after he sends Kyle back in time. This is an au on the movie where there is no Genesis and when John sends Kyle back in time, the events of the original time line stay the same.
> 
> Disclaimer:adult language, angst, drama, PTSD, family.

When the blinding blue light spluttered and died - vanishing into nothing like alien oxygen - Kyle was gone. Just like he knew he would be. But somehow, after all this time, the reality of it hit him hard.

His shoulders sagged, making a brutal fist with his free hand as the others muttered and shifted around him. Not sure if they should cheer or mourn. Carry on or pause to reflect. Each and every one of them was looking at  _him_. Waiting to be told what to do. How to feel. What happened next. What the next day looked like. The next week. Month. Year. Decade. On and on from there like self-renewing prophesy he'd known by heart since the cradle.

And  _god-_  he was tired of it.

"Sir?"

It was usually Kyle who coaxed him out of moments like this. Who'd eventually grown brave enough over the years to lay hands on him. To knock his shoulder with his or sink down on his haunches in front of him. Voice soft, but steady when he said his name. Easing him out of the dark places his mind tended to go more often then not. Usually with very little prompting.

But Kyle was gone.

And he'd never see him again.

As soon as Kyle disappeared from the platform, he'd been dead for almost forty years.

He'd been dead from the beginning.

From the moment he'd met him, the moment he'd saved him, that future was set.

That was the trade off for victory.

"Sir?"

He knew there were some, many of them too old or injured to fight, who'd started writing down their history. What happened after the bombs fell. After Judgement Day. It was like playing telephone in the dark. Lip reading at the bottom of the ocean, piece-meal and rough. But at least it was getting written. And honestly, it made him think. What would the histories say about this moment? How could he honor what had been lost so long ago? And how the wound could bleed fresh when he'd known this was coming all along?

He knew the answer to the last one.

But it didn't change the fact that time travel still made his head hurt.

"What is it?" he rasped, forcing his spine to straighten like he was nothing more than gears and mechanical sinews. Not the weak, aching, scarred mess he knew was waiting in his reflection every time he couldn't avoid looking at the mirror.

"The machine, sir. It's malfunctioning. We need to take it down to bolts, if Lt. Reese is going to-"

"It was a one-way trip," he interrupted. Ignoring the unconscious way each and everyone of them straightened when he looked down at them. Holding the room just as effortlessly as he had for years. Taking their reverence for granted once again. "Reese understood that when he volunteered. Just like most of you probably did. But you volunteered anyway. You were all worthy of that task- each and every one of you. Never forget that."

Because they were. He'd fought along side every man and woman in this room. He knew their worth. Their spirit. Their dedication. Their strength. And they followed him. John Conner the military leader. John Conner the Prophet. John Conner the one who would beat the machines. It didn't matter what version they believed. Just as long as they did. And they had. All of them. Including Kyle.

"What I'm about to tell you is everything Reese left without knowing. I've known my entire life this moment was coming. And I tried- I tried to change it. Today I attempted to take the weapon before the machines could send a terminator back in time to kill my mother, Sarah Conner. But I failed. Then I told you what this machine would do and what the cost would be. And you volunteered to fix my mistake. But the truth is, it was always going to be Kyle Reese, and I sent him back knowing that he would never know that or even know why. I could have told him- but there was too much at stake. I couldn't jeopardize the mission, not when we were so close."

He shook his head, walking up the metal steps as crooked fingers ghosted out. Tracing the marks the time displacement field had scorched into the metal. Now just another part in their story.

"He went not knowing the truth. Not knowing what he was-  _who he was_. He went back in time not knowing that the name Kyle Reese should be as known to all of us as Sarah Conner."

He shuddered to a halt, head bowing. Catching sight of a handful of expressions before he closed his eyes and forced himself still. Wondering if he could even say it. If after all this time he could put all the grief, love and yearning into words.

"Three days from now in his time, Kyle Reese succeeds in his mission. He keeps my mother safe and they destroy the terminator the machines sent back to kill her. But that victory costs him his life."

The room was sober, but not surprised. Like they known it was coming the moment the need for a volunteer had come out. It was one hard truth among thousands. Too much bad had happened in the world for them to expect anything less than an unhappy ending.

Except, that  _wasn't_ where this ended.

"But he didn't leave my mother alone," he added, the corner of his lips arching up in spite himself. Enjoying the flash of confusion that rippled across the crowd, before savoring the slowly building realization growing in the eyes of those he'd known the longest. "He left her with me."

The room wasn't silent.

It echoed with life.

Heavy breathes.

Stuttered exclamations.

Even tentative smiles.

"Kyle Reese  _was-_  and _is_  my father."

It was as close to a confession as he'd probably ever get. Assuaging the guilt he felt through a shared revelation. Like if he spread it out that would somehow lessen the sting. He looked around, taking in their faces. Every expression. Every note that somehow wasn't grief and acceptance. Maybe there was a certain beauty to the truth after all. Because for the first time the words that came next were easier.

"All of you would die for Sarah Conner and I can never repay that loyalty. But Kyle does. He's always had to or else I'm never born. Its never been fair. War never is. Life never is. But we're still here."

Somewhere in the distance, in the fighting fields outside, a cheer rose up. Cheering for him. For themselves. For the machines they were crushing underneath their feet. A living breathing roar of sound and stomping feet that echoed through the metal around them like a second heart beat.

"Victory tonight has had a terrible cost," he told them, raising his voice as he put one foot in front of the other until he was on the platform and ranging above them. "It's taken from every single one of us, but we're here and we made it!"

His voice was strong this time. Like there was a new type of energy surging through the room. Something that gave strength rather that took it away. Infusing the air with something so tenuous he hardly dared to believe it was there at all.

"The future we've been fighting for? It's here! What will you make of it? What will you be? What will you build? What will our children see? Its time to ask yourself what that is! What your future will look like, because it is here and we've earned it!  
The cheers were deafening. Building, human and clean as he thought of his mother's smile and the way Kyle had never really grown out of grinning like a loon whenever the world had given them something to laugh about.

The future was better than hope, he realized.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- Afflatus: inspiration; an impelling mental force acting from within. Divine communication of knowledge.


End file.
